Edge of Hyperspace

By Scott Seldon

This collection features 10 stories from Scott Seldon’s Galactic Confederation Universe. Smuggler Tramp Darvon makes a run through a dangerous stellar nursery. Smuggler Hazdon Brenker is tricked into doing a job by a girl out for revenge. Customs Marine Sgt. Rolfel is tested to see if he has what it takes to be promoted to commander and then he and his best friend take a leisure cruise that turns out to be more business than pleasure. Trader Alluren Beldaras makes a normal delivery, but ends up being chased by pirates. Taru has just lost her mother and returns to work to deal with the variety of people who flow through the spaceport bar where she works. Green skinned Zeccan, Wallivo Haroong, utilizes a maintenance break in his ship’s schedule to travel to his homeworld and deal with a false charge against him. Also included are three stories of Captain Ven Zaran. We see his origins, a favor he does for a friend, and a rescue from later in his career.

If you enjoy this collection, check out Scott Seldon's other titles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Seldon
• Release date: Jan 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466163812

Scott Seldon

Scott Seldon lives in Colorado with his wife and family in a house brimming with old and new computers. He is a student of technology, history, anthropology, languages, and cosmology. Each separate direction of study has enriched his imagination, but he credits the creative output of George Lucas and Isaac Asimov for the direction it has taken. He turned his creativity to science fiction in his teens and has never looked back.In his writing, Scott strives to create rich worlds and characters. Although his stories take place in the future, he often looks to the past to give his stories a solid background. He’s is more likely to watch Captain Blood than Star Wars to find inspiration on the feel of a story. He reads the latest titles by Jack McDevitt followed by C. L. Moore’s stories of Northwest Smith written decades ago with Les Miserables and the Princess of Mars next on his reading list.

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Edge of Hyperspace

Ten Stories of the Galactic Confederation

Scott Seldon

Published by Arrano-Taldea Group

at Smashwords

2013

Discover other titles by Scott Seldon at

sites.google.com/site/scottrseldon

Arrano-Taldea Group is a collective association of independent authors. Each author accepts full responsibility for the content of their own publications. Please contact the author directly to report any problems with this ebook. [e-mail]

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

EDGE OF HYPERSPACE

Copyright © 2011 by Scott Seldon

Cover Art by: Yotsuya

Visit him at: yotsuya-sama.deviantart.com

All rights reserved.

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ebook Edition

Second Edition: July 12, 2013

ISBN: 978-1-4661-6381-2

Revision 4

For my father, Dallas

1944-1997

A rogue at heart

Table of Contents

Introduction

Running From Customs

Beautiful Trouble

Where Legends Begin

Test of Command

Overture of Friendship

Race On The Rim

Chased By Shadows

A Night At Nova Trango

Seeking Justice

A Captain At War

Index

About the Author

Edge of Hyperspace

Ten Stories of the Galactic Confederation

Introduction

For nearly five thousand years the Galactic Confederation has maintained the peace, upheld personal freedoms, and regulated trade throughout the galaxy. To most, the face of the Confederation is the Customs Corps as they police interstellar commerce. They are the bane of smugglers and pirates and the saviors to those in distress. Even so, they are eclipsed as the hero of choice in the entertainment vids by the independent traders.

In the many millennia before the Confederation was born, nearly all the species of the galaxy experienced wars and upheavals leaving great gaps, or dark ages, in their histories. But through it all has persisted the myths and legends of the independent traders and their hyperspace craft. From those tales come a lofty ideal of courage and valor.

It is not without merit. Hyperspace travel has always been dangerous, especially in the millennia before the Confederation. All gravitational bodies found in real space are echoed in hyperspace. Without precise charts, a hyperspace voyage could easily end in death. Even with the Customs Corps’ highly detailed and frequently updated charts, ships still occasionally disappear without a trace.

In modern galactic trade, most goods are transported by the large commercial carriers, but they cannot handle every need. It still falls to the independent traders to move goods and people among the less visited reaches of the galaxy, for a price. It is a hard life that mixes fantastic adventure and boring routine on a regular basis. But in the background, it is the agents of the Customs Corps who make it all possible.

In light of the wild myths and legends, it is no wonder that the entertainment vid producers tend to focus on the modern independent trader for grand tales of adventure. But even through the veneer of the vids, there is always an underlying kernel of truth. Among traders there are quietly whispered names in incredible stories. Even the vids that echo these true stories have inspired countless generations of traders. But new traders quickly shed any romantic notions picked up from the vids and learn to deal with the dull routine runs dotted with the occasional spate of excitement.

It is not surprising, especially in light of the hard life compared to what the vids seem to promise, that many traders will turn to smuggling to make ends meet, get ahead, or just for adventure. Hauling illicit cargoes pits them against the Customs Corps in a long-standing duel, one thing the vids tend to get right. Even so, those who have lived this life or known real traders, know that the reality is far more gritty and incredible than the vid producers dare touch on.

On the other side are the rarely told stories of the agents of the Customs Corps who endeavor to keep the traders and travelers in line and the hyperspace lanes open and free. They usually feature as the adversary of choice in the vids, but in reality they are no less daring or brave than the traders, and their stories are no less interesting. They lay their lives on the line on a daily basis, neither expecting nor receiving much thanks. The strange truth is that most of the time customs agents and traders are on the same side. Pirates and crime syndicates don’t stop to consider whether a trader’s cargo is legal or not, but either way, the Customs Corps is there when they are needed.

Most tales of the heroic deeds of Customs agents and the fantastic exploits of traders come to us from witnesses to their actions. Customs agents are too tight-lipped and traders too secretive to be reliable sources. Instead, it is the passengers, port workers, family, friends, or others connected to their lives in some way who provide the true stories of what transpires. Without them we might not have any knowledge of the reality of these events and have to rely solely on the fictions of the vid producers. Yet these witnesses often have their own unique stories, not just of traders and Customs agents, but of their own lives.

In order to get a true sense of what life is like for these men and women, we have to go to the recorded logs, whispered rumors, and Corps scuttlebutt, but most of all, the eye witness accounts. Only then do we begin to have an idea of what life is like for traders, customs agents, and those around them. What we get is a different, yet strangely parallel, story from what the vids show us. From life and death struggles to the personal touches of daily life, these are the unvarnished tales of real people’s lives. This is what life is truly like on the edge of hyperspace.

Galactic Library Research Division

Hissus Prime

4725 GCE*

(*Galactic Confederation Era)

Running From Customs

3625 GCE

Tramp was sitting in a quiet corner of the bar enjoying a rare quiet drink. No one really knew him on this planet, at least not by sight. He knew his quiet was over as soon as he saw Errubo and his goons walk in.

Errubo was a gangster, pure and simple. He made no effort to hide it. He controlled all the illicit drug trade in this sector and was someone that Tramp tried to avoid. Sitting in this corner with the short brim of his hat shading his face, Errubo shouldn’t notice him.

Errubo surveyed the room and, as people noticed, a hush fell as all eyes were drawn to him.

I have a job for an enterprising trader, he called out. No one missed the code that he expected someone to take it no matter the risks. His eyes surveyed the room again looking for a trader who might be able to pull it off. From the way he acted it was like he already knew who he wanted and was trying to flush him out.

Come now. I am a fair man. I have a job and it will pay very well. There are some risks, but nothing an enterprising trader captain can’t handle.

Tramp could feel the fear in the room. It was palpable like humidity in the air. He could only imagine what new torture Errubo had devised. He was a sadistic bastard who never did things the easy way. Tramp had the uncomfortable feeling his presence on this planet wasn’t as unknown as he’d hoped.

Errubo motioned to his goons and in short order three terrified men were assembled in front of him. When I come in here and offer someone a job, I expect to have my choice of volunteers, he said, his face never changing from the serene expression it always wore. Now that I have three volunteers, which one of you will accept my offer? I have a cargo on the other side of the Arcanax Nursery that needs to be picked up and brought back here within fifty hours. And that would be from now, not from when you leave.

It can’t be done, one of the traders said, his incredulity at the mission overcoming his fear of Errubo.

Errubo moved in front of him and delivered a blow that sent him sprawling. Since you are so sure that it cannot be done, perhaps you would care to try it?

Hiding in the corner was doing nothing for Tramp’s blood pressure. His years as a trader kept his external demeanor calm, but inside he was beginning to seethe. Errubo was baiting him. He had found out he was here on Prixnar IV and his spies had ferreted out what bar he had gone to for a quiet drink.

At least Errubo’s timing was good in one respect, Tramp’s urge to act had waited until he’d calmly finished his drink. He let out a sigh of satisfaction at the quality and potency of his drink. With the hush in the bar, there was no mistaking where that sigh had come from and no hiding any longer.

Well, Errubo, you found me, Tramp said, still shrouded in shadows.

What makes you think I was looking for you?

You are looking for the best and that would be me. None of these guys could make the run you are asking.

It takes quite the egotist to make such a statement. There are many good captains here.

Oh, I’m sure any number of these captains could do many things better than I do, but not a run like this. Tramp stood and walked over to Errubo. The eyes of the three traders were on him and he motioned for them to go back to their seats. He didn’t much care that all eyes in the bar were on he and Errubo. As far as he was concerned it was just the two of them. Now, why don’t you tell me your terms and see if you can tempt me.

But I already have you hooked.

Humor me.

What does a ship like yours cost these days, two or three million? I’m prepared to offer you four million credits.

What happened to your regular courier?

His first mistake was getting caught. He is going to be rotting in Confederation prison for the next fifteen years. His second mistake was costing me my cargo. That will cost him his life so he has fifteen years to live.

Someone at Customs caught on to you. Your price is more than generous, but I can only imagine the size of the cargo if you are prepared to pay that much.

You are a wise man, Tramp. The cargo will be a full hold for you. Funny how the size of the shipment is so perfect for your ship.

I’m not laughing, Errubo. Lay out the payment agreement so we can get on with this. My time is slipping away.

I’ll pay in full on delivery.

I want your blood oath on that.

Now, Tramp. There is no need for that.

You forget, I know you. It’s either a blood oath or no deal. Tramp thought he detected a crack in Errubo’s perfectly schooled demeanor, but it quickly passed.

Very well. He started to pull out his comm pad.

Not so fast. We use mine. He pulled out his comm pad and brought up a standard contract and entered the amount, the time, and the destination. Is this accurate?

It is, Errubo admitted.

Tramp activated the DNA scanning feature. While they called it a blood oath, it didn’t technically require any blood, only an accurate DNA sample to lock everything in and make it more binding than law. The Confederation didn’t honor it as more than a witnessed contract, but the local Prixnar government held the death penalty for breaking such a sealed contract. No matter how he might want to get out of it, Errubo was bound to honor the contract if Tramp returned by the specified time with the full cargo.

It’s been a pleasure doing business with you this time, Errubo. I’ll see you in two days.

I have a lot of people waiting on that cargo. You know what will happen if you let me down.

I know, Errubo. Don’t worry, I’ve never been late before.

There is always a first time.

Tramp let out a loud laugh and shook his head. He tilted his hat up like he always did when he was on the job and left the bar, still chortling.

* * *

When he had a choice, Tramp preferred to land in an open docking bay. Prixnar IV didn’t have that option. While it was large enough to have sufficient natural gravity, it was an airless rocky moon orbiting a gas giant. It was a well laid out port and had all the amenities, but it made Tramp nervous when he couldn’t get a good look at his ship. Jester, his first mate, gave him a hard time that he was more interested in the curves of his ship than those of women, but it really was a security issue as far as Tramp was concerned.

As soon as he walked through the airlock, Jester took one look at him and swore. You couldn’t manage to avoid getting suckered into a job, could you.

I didn’t have much choice. Errubo was harassing three poor traders trying to draw me out. Besides, he’s willing to pay four million.

I’ll believe that when I see it.

I made him sign a blood oath.

Oh, that’s different. When do we leave?

When everyone’s here. Where’s Mutt?

Now, Tramp, you know he doesn’t like it when you call him that.

But it fits so well. Where is he?

He’s in his bunk.

Get him up and meet me on the bridge in five.

Tramp went forward to the bridge and took his customary seat and began to bring his girl to life. No one made freight runners like Kenosh Weskil. There were newer and fancier models out there, but for Tramp, they had never surpassed the genius that was their model 938A.

Keeping the old girl in top shape was an expensive task. She’d been a classic when he bought her, but he kept her looking new and spotless. Errubo had talked of enough for a new ship, but he would rather put it into keeping this one in tip top shape.

I hear we have a job, Dergo Fesh said as he took the navigator’s seat.

Yup. I need your expertise on this one, Mutt.

Dergo gave Tramp a look. Then you should watch what you call me.

We’ve been over this before. Jester and I have nicknames so you should, too. I don’t know why, but Mutt just seems to fit you.

If you weren’t a damn good captain, I wouldn’t put up with this.

I know. Now, we are headed to the other side of the Arcanax Nursery and we have less than 50 hours to get there and back.

Dergo looked at him in shock.

Tramp met his gaze and said, Yes, I’m serious. Now get started plotting your courses. Please, Dergo. This is important. Then he smiled as he added, Your share of four million is on the line.

Four mill... I’ll have us back here in forty hours

I don’t doubt that. I haven’t made this run in a while, but as I recall, the first stop from here would be Dezera Junction so I’ll get us there, you figure out where we need to go from there.

Got it.

Did I hear you say we are going through the Arcanax Nursery? Jester said from the door.

Given the distance and time, there really isn’t any other way.

Not even counting the navigation hazards, Customs heavily patrols along that route.

That’s part of the challenge.

The Arcanax Nursery was a huge grouping of stars and gases that made passing through the galactic arm at this point very dangerous. The stars and proto stars were so thick it was hard to find a safe path through them. Tramp was confident that Mutt could do the job. That’s why he’d hired him. He used to think that he and Jester could handle things themselves, but a couple of years ago they’d gotten into a sticky situation and only a bit of luck in his navigating had gotten them out. He could have always ungraded the computer systems to be able to handle those situations, but he’d decided to keep the original factory systems intact and just hire a good navigator. Mutt hadn’t turned out to be just good, he had worked some magic that Tramp was sure even the best computer couldn’t duplicate.

Jester took the jump seat as Tramp did all the flight checks and called for departure clearance. By the time clearance was granted, they were ready to leave. Tramp disengaged the docking clamps and held the old girl steady for a moment before he eased her out of the dock. The well-crafted controls made precision maneuvering easy, but Tramp’s skill make it look effortless. He always liked to handle departures himself.

As they cleared the moon’s gravity, the great blue and lavender gas giant filled the port. Fortunately their course lay in a different direction or they would have to spend a couple hours going around it. Tramp throttled the old girl up to full, making the entire ship vibrate, and laid on the speed. Plotting the simple course to Dezera Junction had taken little effort so as soon as they reached the beacon, Tramp activated the jump engine and the space in front of the ship ripped apart and they were sailing on the hyperspace streams.

* * *

The route through the Arcanax Nursery was not well mapped. It was far too dangerous for a regular trade route and the Customs Corps tried to discourage smugglers from using it. Dergo spent the hours in hyperspace between Prixnar IV and Dezera Junction pouring over the star charts to find a safe route through that would also be fast. Too close to any of the stars or protostars in the Nursery and their trip would end in disaster. He also had to chart their gravity effects to be able to tell how they might be pulled of course. If he knew in advance he could compensate. He barely moved from the navigation terminal the entire flight.

I’m worried about our boy in there, Jester shared with Tramp as they neared Dezera Junction.

He’ll manage, he always does.

But this isn’t your average hyperspace plot. This is a damn difficult maze you are taking us through. We’ve never done anything like this before.

Have faith, Jester. He can do it. When I checked on him a while ago he had most of it done.

Jester shook his head. I don’t know where you get your faith in people.

Ever known me to be wrong? Tramp asked in a way that made it clear he was being serious.

Well, no. But there is always a first time.

That set Tramp on a fit of laughter and even Jester had to smile at their situation. They either had to finish successfully and get paid or they were dead men. If they didn’t laugh about it, they’d have to cry.

It wasn’t too many more minutes until they heard a shout of success from the cockpit. They both hurried there to be sure.

Dergo was leaning back in the seat with a look of utter relief and exhaustion on his face. It’s done, he said when he saw them, but he didn’t move a muscle. Dezera Junction, through the Nursery, ending up at Azot-Siomar where we pick up our cargo, and back again.

You plotted the return as well? Tramp asked to verify that he’d heard correctly.

Yup. I figured if I was going to all that work to find a good route, we probably could come back the same way. The points are a little different and we’ll have to watch the gravity drift, but the segments were all identical.

Good job, Jester said.

Now if you guys don’t mind, I need some sleep. It’s all set for the first run. I’ll be up by the time it’s done.

Go on, you’ve earned it, Tramp told him.

Normally when they came to a system like Dezera Junction, they would put in at the port, but with the hurry they were in, Tramp was bypassing that step. Mutt had planned for that and had left the starting point open. Tramp lined up the ship to their destination and entered their starting location and finalized the first leg of the course. You ready for this, he asked Jester.

No, but since we don’t have a choice, we’d better get going anyway.

Tramp didn’t waste a moment and activated the first jump.

* * *

Mutt was alert and awake before that leg was finished and he took over the navigation controls. He’d done a good job and the first legs of their course needed few corrections. As the hours and parsecs wore on, the legs became shorter and shorter and the corrections greater and more frequent.

Tramp took his turn getting some rest as they edged closer to the most dangerous part of the trip. They were sixteen hours out of Prixnar IV when they hit their first real snag.

We’re way off, Mutt said in a quiet, level voice. This could take a few minutes.

Tramp knew better than to interrupt him and was grateful that Jester was getting some rest so he wouldn’t pester Mutt. He might defend Mutt against Tramp, but he had a habit of commenting on almost everything. Normally it was a fun pastime, but right now that sort of thing could distract Mutt and that could lead to mistakes and death.

Tramp waited quietly for over half an hour before Mutt finally said, Oh, there it is. Barely a minute later they were again in hyperspace.

As they drew deeper into the Nursery, the nature of hyperspace changed. Flitting among the stars, hyperspace was shot through with glowing streams that always seemed to parallel your course. If you approached too close to a star or large planet, there was a corresponding dark shape in hyperspace. But here where the stars grew closer and larger, the streams seem brighter and clumpy and the darkness of the stars loomed large and close. Tramp wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone else, but it was a bit scary. They were at the mercy of Mutt’s navigation talents.

There were a few more times when Mutt paused after a jump to recalculate based on their actual location, but not quite as long as that first time. They made it through the narrowest leg of the voyage with a better margin than Tramp would have dared hope for. Fortunately Jester didn’t reappear until they were on the first sizable leg on the other side.

Tramp had spent most of the time while Mutt had been correcting their course, monitoring the scanners for anyone following them. He really hadn’t expected anything, but there was no telling when a Custom’s Commander might take it into their head that he was up to something. The course from Prixnar IV to Dezera Junction was a normal enough one that it shouldn’t have drawn any attention and they had barely touched the outskirts of the system at Dezera Junction. The real danger of being followed would come when they left Azot-Siomar. It was a known source of the contraband that Errubo specialized in and he would be followed, he just had to lose them.

* * *

Two more jumps and they were on approach to Azot-Siomar. It was a big contrast from Prixnar IV. Azot-Siomar had an abundance of arable ground and produced enough natural food products to meet the needs of several sectors. Tramp, like most traders, subsisted off replicated food, but while it was nutritious enough, the taste put off a lot of people. There was a big demand for naturally grown food. It also made a haven for drug traffickers.

Replicators had their limitations, partly by design, Tramp suspected. They were great for simple items and foods, but for more complex chemical compounds found in nature, they were useless. Probably one reason why food usually tasted funny, until you got used to it. But it meant that Errubo’s drugs had to be grown and processed planetside and then shipped to their destinations. The drug manufacturers on Azot-Siomar had been doing it so long and with such success that they operated with impunity on the surface but at the same time were hidden enough so that most people never knew they were there.

Errubo had given specific coordinates for the pickup. The location was far outside one of the smaller freight ports. Landing at the exact location would be like a beacon for the Customs enforcers to follow so he’d have to rent a ground transport and go out and get it. It would take time, but they were right at twenty-three hours out of the fifty allotted as they hit the atmosphere so they should have enough time. Tramp wanted to be finished and off the surface within an hour.

By Tramp’s estimation, figuring that any interaction could lead to delays that would average out, they were still on schedule when they pulled up to the warehouse. Jester, who’d come along to help haul the cargo, was positive that they were running further and further behind. Tramp had initially found such complaints annoying, but as they had worked together year after year, he’d come realize that it did help keep him on track. This time was no exception. Jester had carried on a running dialog while they’d gone to get the transport and checked it out. Tramp made him drive it to the warehouse which kept him quiet and put him in control of any delays. When he checked his chron as the transport came to a stop, he saw they were still well ahead of where they needed to be.

Let me do all the talking, Tramp told Jester. Maybe you should wait here.

I’ll be ready to go as soon as we are loaded.

Tramp found the warehouse manager in the office. He was on the comm and didn’t even look up for a minute. Tramp wasn’t about to say anything, but he wasn’t going to wait either. He grabbed a pad sitting on the counter and the stylus and scribbled down a quick note and showed it to the manager.

As the manager read it, he stopped paying attention to the person on the other end of the comm. Yasha, I’ll have to get back to you. I have an important customer here. He cut the comm and gave Tramp his full attention. So you are here for Errubo’s order?

I am. How fast can we get it loaded?

I’ll get my people right on it.

Tramp very much liked the people the manager pulled to load the cargo. The lift loader operator was a very pretty young woman. He didn’t have time to talk to her, but he certainly enjoyed looking.

He hadn’t known exactly how much cargo there would be, but Errubo had hinted that it would fill his hold so they had rented a transport that was large enough to hold at least that volume. When the last of the cargo went in and Tramp saw how much there was, he wasn’t so sure that it would all fit in the hold. That could cause a bit of a delay. He’d manage one way or the other.

Here’s your manifest, you’re all set, the Manager said when they’d closed the transport up.

Errubo is paying for it directly, isn’t he?

He is. Now on the manifest it says this is a load of partially refined sugar, but it...

Don’t say it, Tramp cut him off. I don’t need to know what it really is.

You are leaving from here so everyone will know it is raw armon spice.

Tramp sighed and looked at the manager. Did I or did I not say not to tell me?

What difference does it make?

It’s courtesy. When someone asks something like that, especially in this business, you listen. Now, here is what we are going to do... Tramp drew the manager in close and then punched the manager in the gut. You are going to learn manners... He drew the man up and punched him in the face. And next time, if there is a next time... He turned